On The Edge of Escape
by IcamaneHatake
Summary: Amitta Diggory has always been the odd-child out of her family. She wasn't charismatic, or a Seer. Just book-smart Amitta. That is, until she falls and finds herself in Middle Earth... OC/OC, end of Return of the King.
1. Getting Feet Wet

**Hey, welcome to my new story and my second crossover EVA! ~Woot~ This is ALMOST a spin-off of As The Sister of Harry Potter, but not really. You'll see what I mean when you read it...**

**Enjoy and send me some feedback! **

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"I've never understood these parties…"

"You never understand _anything_ social."

Anne and Amitta walked out of their parents house and into the expansive field of a backyard that was serving as party central. The expansive field seemed to just be filled with witches and wizards of all shapes and sizes, all wearing their best cloths, sipping either Butterbeer or Firewhiskey, and talking animatedly. It was a happy sort of day, as seemingly everyone had deemed it. The people at the party, the cloths they were wearing, even the weather was balmy. But Amitta Diggory was not at all happy to be there.

For being twin sisters, they seemed to have little in common. Anne was a sweet, girly, nature-loving social butterfly, accepting her deep red curls with grace. Amitta, on the other hand, was bookish, logical, and a bit of a tomboy and loner. Not as much of a loner as her younger bother, Stefan, but certainly not Miss Popularity like Anne, not the center of attention like her older brother, Regulus, always was. If anything, she was the most, of the four kids, like her mother. Except Amitta thought herself to be better behaved than her mother had been at her age, and Amitta had been a Ravenclaw, not a Gryffindor.

"Oh, _there_ you two are! I was beginning to wonder if you had actually come or not." The voice of their mother caught both the girls off-guard, but Anne recovered faster than Amitta.

"Oh, you know Amitta, Mum, never keen for these social gatherings," said Anne with her perfect smile before she began working her way into the crowd, her yellow sun dress twirling around her. Amitta offered her mother a hesitant smile. Even in her mid-forties, Jennifer Diggory was still a rather intimidating woman. She was fiery, a fighter, and a great teacher. She was of the generation that had fought against Lord Voldemort all those years ago, part of the generation who made the wizarding world a better place. And then, there was her infamous temper.

But Jennifer just sighed and chuckled. "Don't worry Amitta, darling. I still don't quite enjoy these things myself."

Amitta's father, Cedric Diggory, loved hosting parties, but even after twenty-odd years, Jennifer was still a bit uncomfortable with it all. She already had a fear of public speaking that had been softened a bit during her freedom-fighting days, but replacing that was a deep paranoia, one that would probably never fade away. She had grown up always looking over her shoulder, was used to being stalked, and maybe there was even a bit of fear of crowds in there, but either way, Jennifer didn't like these parties any more than Amitta did.

Jennifer was about to say some more words of comfort to her daughter when an unknown Ministry official cut across her. "Jennifer, there you are! Now, as I was saying, I don't believe you've met my son…" And she was whisked away, leaving Amitta alone in a crowd. She sighed and decided to go try and look for Stefan, who was surely enjoying this just as much as she was. '_Why can't the stupid Ministry have their parties somewhere else for a change?_' she asked herself as she headed around the edge of the crowd in search of her baby brother. The parties had been fun when she was younger, when she could watch in fascination as witches and wizards performed magical feats she could have only dreamed of. But now that she was out of school, they all seemed annoying and superfluous. She could do better magic than half these "officials" now-a-days.

"I was wondering when you'd come looking for me," Stefan stated when Amitta found him by the large boulder that marked the end of the Diggory's property before it hit the woods. Stefan handed her the unopened Butterbeer at his feet and took a sip of his own. Amitta sat on the warm rock beside him and popped it open, sipping the liquid that made her feel bubbly and warm inside.

"I had another dream about you last night," Stefan said blankly, grey eyes locked on the horizon. Amitta nearly choked on her Butterbeer, half in fright and half in shock.

"What was this one about?" she asked once she had cleared her throat. Her voice was doing weird things now. Did she even want to know?

Stefan began to frown. That was never a good sign, and Amitta's nerves heightened. "You were in some sort of wasteland—there was no green, just black rocks and soil—there was a volcano, and a giant black tower that was on fire. And there was a huge army, too. Then I woke up."

Amitta's hands trembled slightly. Stefan's dreams were never a joke, and they usually came true. He was a Seer, and his dreams were his window into the future.

"Not planning a trip to a volcanic island, are you?" Stefan asked, dropping his gaze down to her, a slight smirk on his face. Amitta twisted her dress, completely regretting even starting this conversation.

"It's not funny, Stefan," she almost snarled. "You keep having dreams about me in this weird place with armies and fighting and weird creatures… and we all know how your dreams go."

But his smirk stayed on his face. "I dunno Amitta, these are pretty weird dreams. It's like another world." He sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy black hair. "I'm really hoping it's a symbolic dream, and not a Seer dream."

Stefan had never been good at convincing people, and Amitta had inherited their mother's suspicions. It made the situation rather uncomfortable. "Well, whatever it means, at least you haven't died in them yet. Death dreams are the worst," Stefan said, shivering the slightest bit. Amitta just shook her head, not knowing what to say. It wasn't his fault he had creepy dreams.

He sighed again and stood, draining the Butterbeer. "Regulus is going to come looking for me in a few minutes, so it's time to disappear." And in seconds he had blended into the crowd.

Now it was Amitta's turn to sigh, twisting her dress again and finished off her own Butterbeer. She loved her little brother, but he just scared her. Hell, he even scared their mum sometimes. His dreams had never been wrong.

"Hey Amitta, you seen Stefan?" asked the shadow that now loomed over her. It was indeed Regulus, brown hair combed and green eyes a bit confused.

"No, why?" Amitta lied.

Regulus's eyebrows pushed together. "Weird, I could have sworn I saw him over here…" Then he wandered off again.

Once she was again alone, Amitta stood, her legs wanting to go somewhere, but her brain having no ideas on where to do. She didn't know hardly anyone in the crowd, mostly because the gusts were around her parents' age, so socializing would be awkward. Amitta didn't have the cheerful I'm-easy-to-talk-to peppy attitude Anne had, nor the charisma Regulus had, or even that get-away-I'm-creepy aura Stefan gave off. She was just Awkward Amitta, which a few good friends, Keeper reflexes, and book smarts.

As she hovered on the edge of the crowd, a few of her parents friends asked her casual questions, ("Do you miss Hogwarts? How was graduation? Have you found work yet? Oh, great! Where at?") but for the most part, she was ignored. Amitta wasn't sure if she liked it or not. On one hand, she didn't have to trip up simple sentences with a bit of a fake smile, but on the other hand, she probably looked like either an idiot, a git, or both. She was the daughter of two practically famous wizards. Shouldn't she be out in the crowd? Shouldn't she be like Anne, talking to a blonde stranger as animatedly as if they were best friends? Should she be like Regulus, being the life of the party with his jokes, attempting to impress his girlfriend (he'd been talking about proposing to this one)? Shouldn't she be like Stefan, roaming silently through the crowd but answering occasional questions with cool confidence?

In the end, she ended up shrinking away off the property, away from the party, and into the woods. She took care not to snag her dress on anything and tried not to scuff her shoes as she walked. She had never actually been _in_ the woods before, even in her childhood. Her vivid nightmares of wolves had prevented her from going any farther than the edge in the daytime. But, that was then, and this was now. Now, she was a big girl, nearly twenty, and had a very good mastery of magic. None-the-less, she still pulled her wand out of her sleeve.

Soon, she came to a stream. If she turned around and looked in the right spots, she could catch glimpses of the party through the trees. But a rustling caught her attention, and she tensed up, only to find a small family of ducks coming out of the bushes downstream from her. Amitta relaxed and watched the mother lead her four ducklings to the stream and started across it. The first three followed her into the water without hesitation, but the final one wasn't so sure. It's siblings were nearly all the way across before it followed hurriedly, afraid to be left behind. '_Afraid to get our feet wet, aren't we?_' Amitta asked the duckling in her mind as it scuttled away into the bushes on the other side after its family Maybe Stefan wasn't the odd child out. Maybe she was.

Amitta didn't want to chance jumping the stream, so she carefully set her foot in the water, feeling her shoe get soaked almost instantly. '_I'll dry them later,_' she thought as she reached for the muddy bank on the other side.

Her heart practically stopped when her foot slipped in the mud and she fell to the ground and towards the rocks on the bank. The last thing she remembered was sticking out her arms to break the fall, hitting the palms of her hands and then her head hit. She didn't feel any pain, because she had already slipped into black unconsciousness, not dissimilar to dissapparation.

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**If any of the characters are confusing (their relations and whatnot) PM or review me, and I'll fill you in :D**

**~Icamane**


	2. Not Wonderland

The first thing Amitta felt was pain. There was a dull pain in her wrists, but it was her head that ached the most. Every inch of it hurt, but the majority of pain was blossoming from a wet spot on her forehead. But it wasn't the pain, or the fact that she was lying on the ground, or even that she was seeing odd-coloured spots that felt wrong.

It was the fact that she was dry.

This was what made Amitta open her eyes shakily. She had to blink a few times before she had adjusted to the light, and her heart dropped again.

There weren't any trees.

"What the hell?" she groaned, attempting to lift herself off the ground, but failing because of the pain in her head. So she lay in the dead grass, wondering where the stream was, the mud, hell, the freaking _forest._ But every time she tried to remember what had happened, her head started to ache even worse. So she gave up, closed her eyes, and unintentionally slept.

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Amitta had no idea how long she was asleep for, but when she awoke, it was because her feet were wet. She opened her eyes, hopeful, but the same dead grass was there, and something she somehow had missed the first time; a wall of black rock.

Her head didn't hurt as bad now, so she rolled over and sat up carefully. She was on another bank, but this was a river bank. On either side were tall mountains, the ones to her back, black, and the ones she faced, faded green and grey. And they were very far away.

There wasn't anything to her left, downstream, either. The river just wound on through the flat, dead land. But to her right, upstream, she could see the tiniest bit of a white tower. And smoke. Lots of smoke.

Amitta shivered slightly. There wasn't anything quite right about this place. She definitely didn't belong. Nevertheless, she picked her wand up off the ground and stood with caution, trying to prevent a head-rush. She started trying to make plans. It didn't feel at all like a dream, everything (especially her headache) felt all too real. She figured she should try and find out where she was, and how she could get back home. A crappy party was better than being stuck in a wasteland, any day.

The first thing she did was wave her wand, transfiguring the ruined part dress into jeans, a long sleeve shirt, and a dark blue cloak, and her shoes into boots. The she went down to the river and washed the dried blood off her face. She conjured a small bottle to carry water in, filled it, and tied it to her belt loop. "Well," she said to herself, "I guess I've got to go somewhere."

She considered each direction, talking softly to herself. It made her feel a little less lonely. "So those mountains are way too far, and it doesn't look like there's anything over there anyways. Same with downstream… so it's either the burning tower, or up the black mountains." Amitta looked at both options. There seemed to be even more smoke than ever. And it would be dark in a couple of hours. "Well, the mountain's closer… and maybe I'll be able to see where I am from up high." She gazed up at the black wall of rock, sighed, and began walking.

She had no idea how long it took her to walk to the base of the mountains. The sky was covered with thick grey clouds like a flannel blanket. And like a blanket, it completely blocked out the sun.

Though the lack of sun probably added to this feeling, gazing up the steep rock face was gripping Amitta with an ominous feeling. It wasn't quite fear, but rather, a paranoid anxiety. '_Too late to turn back now,'_ she told herself, and started up the slope.

The climb was difficult and exhausting. She was thankful she at least had some arm strength from several years of playing Keeper on the Quidditch team, but it just wasn't enough. She used Carpe Retractum to pull herself along at times when she felt she could no longer cling to the cold rocks, but even magic was exhausting. She felt very faint when she reached the top. It was very dark now, almost pitch black.

Almost.

What Amitta saw when she came to the top of the ridge made her gasp and her heart feel faint, all involuntarily. Through the darkness, Amitta could only see one thing; the raging inferno of a volcano that burned bright red through the black night.

Amitta felt hot tears of anger, disappointment and fear building behind her eyes. "Dammit, I went the wrong way," she cursed to herself. "I should have made for the bloody tower." Tired, frustrated, and scared, she transfigured a rock into a tent, and crawled in, hoping the morning would bring some hope.

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She awoke, to her further disappointment, staring at the roof of her tent, with grey light filtering feebly in. Her headache wasn't anything like it had been yesterday, but it was still there. She covered her face with her hands and gently massaged her forehead, trying to remember exactly how she had gotten herself into this mess. She had left the party to go walk in the forest… and tried to cross a stream. Then she had slipped and fallen, hadn't she? And apparently had hit her head. But if she had merely hit her head, then how did she get to—this place—hell, she didn't even know where she was! She sighed angrily, sitting up. "If I could just figure _that_ out, I could maybe figure out how to leave," she assured herself.

Her stomach growled loudly, and it struck Amitta that she didn't know when her last meal had been. And she had no idea when the next meal would be, for that was the one thing she couldn't just conjure. So she forced herself out of the tent, re-secured her cloak, and turned the tent back into a rock, trying to ignore her body's various complaints.

Amitta instead gazed out towards the volcano. It the grey light, she could see just how immense it really was. Lava ran sluggishly down the black slopes, with equally black smoke billowing out the top. "So that's the cause of this darkness," she commented, a bit frightened. Red lightning rippled through the smoky clouds, and Amitta turned away, now facing the tower from yesterday. But it was more than a tower, it was an entire city under siege. It was a crumbling, burning white city, with a huge army fighting outside its walls. She could not tell any of the warriors apart from each other, but she could pick out the war elephants, elephants that even from a great distance she could tell made normal elephants look small.

She looked back over to her right, to the volcano, and took in that way. There was a great black tower under a ring of fire to the left of it, and in the valley, another black army, but this one wasn't fighting. This army was waiting for something.

Now that she could see more or less what she was in for, Amitta didn't want to go in any direction, except for the one that lead her home. She did not wish to go down to the burning city, into war, but she didn't want to go down into the black wasteland that didn't look promising. In the end, she considered the slopes. They both looked like fairly difficult climbs, but the city side was far steeper. On the volcanic side, the slope was gentler, if that could have even been said. But just looking down the city side of the mountain ridge made Amitta's legs quake, and her body seemed to have made up her mind for her.

"Yes, I know, take the easy road," she snapped at her stomach, which was growling insistently once again. And so Amitta began her decent down into the black wasteland. She stumbled once and slid for a ways, ripping her jeans, but other than that, she made it down relatively unharmed. Both the volcano and tower were bigger now, but a few miles away still. The restless army, however, was closer, and Amitta wondered if they were people, or some type of creature. But what kind of creature could be so abundant as to fairly fill the bottom of this valley?

"Well, no matter what they are, they'll have food, even if it's the kind I have to transfigure into something I can eat," she reasoned. "But either way… this sure as hell isn't Wonderland."

And so she started for the army, across the wasteland, fulfilling Stefan's prophecy.

Stefan's dreams were never wrong.

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**Hey, so I know not a lot happened, but hey, every story needs those chunks of description and "trekking." **

**Reviews?**

**~Icamane**


	3. The Black Gate

Amitta crouched behind a giant boulder, back pressed flat against the rough, cold stone and heart pounding. She had only just gotten away. And the scuffling sounds of whatever it was that had seen her were presently getting closer.

She had reached the very edge of the army sooner than she had expected, and when she did, what she saw could hardly have been put into words. They were some kind of beings, not human, but not quite creatures either. The closest she could think of what they resembled were goblins, only much more horrid, dirtier, and taller than then goblins she had seen. They were almost like a goblin and human crossbreed.

But just when Amitta was about to turn around and find a way around them, one of them had spotted her. Now she was crouching in fear, cursing herself for not casting a Disillusionment Charm.

"Where are you, you filthy fire-scum?" the thing said in it's horrible voice, a mix between a rough, gravely sound and the sound someone makes when their throat is thick with blood. Amitta gripped her wand tightly, trying to formulate some kind of strategy, but thinking was nearly impossible. Fear kept trying to block her thoughts.

The gravel crunching stopped just on the other side of the boulder, and Amitta still didn't know what to do. All her classes, all the spells she had learned, and all the stories her mother had told her… they could never have prepared her for this. So she fixed her mind on one thing, and that was something her mother had told her once during dueling club. "Sometimes," she had said, "you just gotta let your instincts free, and stop truly thinking."

And that's what Amitta let happen as the foul creature rounded the corner and squealed in delight. She flicked her wand and yelled the first spell that came to mind. "Confundus!"

He stopped in his tracks, a confused look on his face, but she didn't stop there. "Stupify!"

The jet of red light hit the creature, and it fell over.

Amitta heaved a sigh, one that let loose quite a bit of her build-up fear. But she still crouched behind her boulder, trying to figure out what to do next. She needed food, but she stood out far too much, especially with her hair. It was redder than the odd lightning crackling overhead. She gazed down again at the Stunned… thing, and had a sudden stroke of brilliance. Checking around to make sure she was clear, Amitta crept over to the Stunned creature, and took its sharp armor, fitting it onto herself. With a simple charm, it shrunk to fit her, and she picked up its weapon. "Time to blend in," she muttered, stowing her wand.

Amitta started for the army of whats-its again, careful to watch her footing in the clunky metal boots. She joined into the crowd, picking her way through. No one seemed to notice her, and of this, she was thankful. It seemed like if she didn't bother anything, they wouldn't bother her.

By the time it was approaching night again, Amitta was about to faint in hunger and exhaustion. However, she seemed to have managed to cover a lot of ground, and was now in about the middle of the army. A bit satisfied, Amitta found an empty tent and ducked into it. Scrounging around, she found some raw meat and moldy bread. She wrinkled her nose at it, but muttered, "Better than nothing," and started waving her wand. In moments, she had a loaf of fresh bread and several strips of jerky, which she wolfed down equally as fast as she had transfigured it. It wasn't enough, but it would do until morning. For now, she cast a charm to prevent anyone or anything from entering, and dozed off to sleep.

"Get going, you filthy maggots!"

Amitta woke with a start, fumbling to herself awake. Outside, it sounded like everyone was on the move. Amitta scrambled out of the tent, shoving her wand back up her sleeve and picking up the chunk of metal that was severing as a weapon on her way out.

She was immediately shoved into the flowing crowd, nearly losing her footing. But she pushed on forward, along with everyone around her. Everything was a frenzy, and Amitta had a hard time keeping up. Every so often, she felt the sharp bite of a whip on her back, making her whimper softly in pain. "Come on you scum! Don't you know we're at war!" yelled the creature wielding the whip. Wait, war? Had the fight she had seen yesterday come so swiftly? She that's where they were headed, off to battle? With whom? And… who's side was she on?

'_So much for avoiding a fight,_' Amitta thought bitterly.

Crunch, crunch, crunch they marched on across the black plains, to the wall of black in front of them. In the rock slightly to the left, there was a gap of lower rocks, and Amitta wondered if that's where they were headed. It seemed to be the only place where they could get out of this prison of rock, but it didn't look promising.

To Amitta and her dead weights of legs, the march seemed to take days, and for all she knew, it did. The sun was still blocked out, and telling time was very difficult. But in all reality, it was only a few hours. A few hours that left Amitta at the break in the mountains that wasn't rock at all; it was a black gate.

And this gate was opening wider and wider, with her metal-clad fellow marchers charging out of the gate towards another army. Amitta picked her pace, but dropped her weapon and made sure her wand was securely in her sleeve. But when she herself passed through the gate, she nearly stopped in her tracks. The army on the other side of the gate was an army of men in silver armor. It only took a split second for her to make up her mind. The men were good, and she, Amitta Diggory, was a part of the enemy. "_If I can make it out alive, maybe I can explain everything to them and get some help…_'

"Stupify!"

Amitta took out a black-clad creature with a flash of red light. She didn't want to risk bringing out her wand, but with some effort, she could still use it. The resulting effect made it look like she was shooting magic out of her hands. And it caught the attention of a lot of the creatures around her.

"Get that scum!" one yelled, and about ten others came towards her. But Amitta was ready.

"Incendio!" she yelled, waving her arm and creating a huge wave of fire that billowed over the charging creatures. They fell over, howling in pain from their burns. '_Effective,_' Amitta noted with satisfaction. Spinning, she used the fire to begin clearing a path towards the men in silver armor.

When she broke the inferno, Amitta felt faint. "What in the world…?" she muttered, holding a hand to her head. In that moment her guard was down, Amitta felt her feet go out from under her, her head ricocheting painfully inside her helmet as she hit the ground. A boot caught her shoulder, flipping her over, and Amitta found an arrow in her face. Paralyzed by fear, it seemed that only her eyes could move. They found the bow and owner of the weapon, a man with long, dirty blonde hair dressed in blue and silver armor. His arm twitched to let the arrow fly, but then their eyes met, and he frowned. His boot left her shoulder and kicked off her helmet, letting her red hair fly everywhere. His eyes widened in surprise, and he started to lower his bow—

WHUMP

A black, rough arrow pierced his armor, and he crumpled to the ground next to Amitta. Her body snapped back to life, and she cast a Shield Charm around herself and the soldier. Scrambling to her knees, she bent over him, and saw he was still alive. The one thought in Amitta's head was to save him, but for what reason, she didn't know. "Don't die now," she muttered, touching the arrow. He let out a sharp groan of pain, and she let go. She was beyond rational thought now. Her instincts had taken over again, and those instincts told her to transfigure the arrow. She did, turning it into a long metal rod which she pulled out fairly easily, save for the gross squelching noise the rod and blood made. The soldier was letting out gasps now, trying to stay alive. Amitta closed her eyes and focused every bit of her energy now into the one healing spell she knew, hoping it would be enough, and began the incantation.

Amitta felt a great draining sensation, but from what she could see of his wound, it was improving. She continued on, trying to ignore her dizziness. The wound was approaching closed where her vision swam, and she collapsed on the ground, drained of all energy possible and in a state of unconsciousness.

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**Oh hey look, an update for something... ::facepalm:**

**I've had this written out for a while, but just decided now to type it up. **

**Everything else though, (This story, TLF, and His Eyes) are ALL on hiatus, in case you've been wondering, because of NaNoWriMo. I'll start updating again when I'm done with it.**

**~Icamane**


	4. Prisoner

Amitta had many vivid, feverish nightmares. She had no idea how long they lasted, nor how many he had, but there seemed to be a common theme: fire, death, and wolves. Terrible, howling wolves, with their teeth snapping at her heels and their devilish eyes glowing, chased after her relentlessly. She ran and ran, but one lunged and it's jaws snapped around her heel—

Her eyes jolted open, her heart pounding and a line of cold sweat forming under her hairline. Her eyes darted around in a frenzy, looking for the wolf, but it wasn't there. Just a bit of pale light and a stone room. She felt the stone wall behind her, but when she tried to move away from it, she discovered she had been chained tautly to the wall crucifix style.

Amitta Diggory was a prisoner.

She tested the restraints, but they didn't give at all. Looking down, she found herself in only the tattered cloths she had transfigured for herself. But panic set back in; her wand wasn't on her, not that she could feel. She looked around what she could see of the room, but didn't spot it. '_Dammit,_' she thought angrily. '_Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!_'

Just then, the wooden door in the shadows clanked open, and in slid a nervous young man in silver armor with a tree engraved on the breastplate. He gave a start when he saw Amitta was awake.

"Hey you, who are you?"

He merely turned place and bolted out of the dungeon, slamming the heavy door behind him.

"Some soldier he is," Amitta scoffed. Her eyes darted around the dungeon, still looking desperately for her wand.

She was still struggling when she heard footsteps approach again and the wooden door opened for the third time. In walked the man who's life she had saved on the battle field with the young soldier trailing behind him nervously. The man was tall and lean, his dirty blonde hair pulled back neatly and he wore rich green and brown robes. But his most unusual feature was his pointed ears. Amitta had never seen anything like them.

"Who are you and why am I chained up?" Amitta asked the man. "And where's my wand?" Her voice was gravely from disuse.

"You are a prisoner of the Kingdom of Gondor," said the man curtly, accepting a set of shackles and a ring of keys from the soldier.

"Where the bloody hell is Gondor?" Amitta asked. This just had to be some kind of prank.

The man didn't answer her, just shackled her ankles and got rid of the chains that held her legs to the wall.

"Who are you?" He couldn't be silent forever.

"I am the Captain of the Guard of Rivendell. My name, however, is not your to know."

"And what's Rivendell?"

"An elvish city," he replied, not shackling her wrists together. She was thankful that her arms were now in a more comfortable position, even if she was still chained up.

"And my wand? Where's that?" Amitta demanded as the elvish captain lead her out the door. He didn't answer her.

Amitta found herself out on a street of white stone. The sun must have been going down, because the light was fading and the sky above her was deep purple.

"Where are you taking me?" Amitta asked, hoping he would at least answer this question.

"To see the king. He will decide your fate."

Amitta gulped and didn't say anything else as she was lead through the white stone city. She prayed this king was a good guy and that he would hear her story. Maybe he'd even help her get back home. But what if he wasn't? What if he locked her back up or had her put to death? What would happen back home if she died here? '_How about we don't think about that, Amitta?_' she told herself as she stumbled up a flight of stairs. These heavy shackles were really upsetting her balance.

They walked up a final flight of stairs and Amitta found herself on a huge outlook over the city and the surrounding land. The outlook was facing a wall of rock, the same wall of rock Amitta had climbed, and it struck her that she must be in the burning city she had seen when she had first arrived. But considering her climb up and how the city seemed to be fine, she wasn't sure at all.

"Come along now," urged the elf, and he lead Amitta through a set of huge doors.

They were in a throne room of white and black marble. There was a row of alternating columns and statues on either side of them. Amitta's boots made echoing clunks with every step she took down the hall. At the end of the hall sat a man and woman in high marble chairs, both wearing crowns. The elf captain made Amitta stop in front of them and after she had bowed her head, she observed the king and queen.

The woman was exceedingly beautiful with her flawless, pale face and long dark brown hair. She must have been an elf too, because her ears were pointed just like the captain's were. She wore a flowing, silky dress of pale blue, and she was looking at Amitta with a look of pity mixed with confusion.

The man also had brown hair, which was trimmed, as well as a neat, full beard. He too was dressed in silk cloths, but his were smoky grey. His dark eyes were almost sparkling with curiosity.

"I have brought the prisoner, your highnesses," said the captain after he had finished bowing.

"Thank you, Captain Thereon," the king said, not taking his eyes off Amitta. "Now, I am very interested in finding out who our prisoner is and why she was among the Orks of Mordor."

Amitta felt like this was an invitation to speak, so she asked, "Where's my wand?"

"I have it in my possession. You may receive it again after you have answered my questions and if you prove to not be a threat."

Amitta frowned. She didn't like this, but it might be her only chance. "Alright, shoot."

The king gave her a confused look but proceeded anyways. "What is your name and your lineage?"

"My name is Amitta Ophilia Diggory." She hesitated. She wasn't sure at all what he meant by lineage. Maybe her parents? "My parents are Jennifer Potter and Cedric Diggory."

He nodded slowly. "I have not heard of the line of Diggory. From where in Middle Earth do you hail from?"

"I'm not _from_ Middle Earth. I'm from England," Amitta said a bit haughtily.

"If you are not from here, then how is it you came to Middle Earth?" asked the queen, her voice gentle.

"I don't know," Amitta replied, trying not to be rude. "All I remember was I was walking through the woods at the edge of my parent's property when I slipped and fell. I knocked myself out and when I woke up, I was here."

"And how was it that you ended up in the armies of Mordor?"

Amitta sighed and began her story, telling everything from waking up on the riverbank to ending up in the middle of the battle. Everyone in the hall seemed to be listening intently as she spoke, even the guards in silver armor. "So now I'm here, I know just about as much as you lot do, and I just want to go home!"

There was silence until the king spoke again, pulling Amitta's wand out from the folds of his sleeve. It took a lot of Amitta's self-control to not lunge for it. "Captain Thereon has told us of your… abilities. You had no weapons on you when you were captured, only this." He turned the polished wood over with his fingers delicately.

"That's—" Amitta stopped. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell them that _was_ her weapon.

"What is it?"

"A… magic wand."

Everyone in the room, whether subtly or not, stared at her incredulously. Amitta could even sense Captain Thereon giving her a sideways stare.

"What are you?" the queen finally asked.

"I'm a—a witch."

The atmosphere in the throne hall suddenly grew cold and tense. Next to her, Captain Thereon tensed up and his hand went for the hilt of a weapon that rested at his side. The king held up a hand, and the guards paused.

"Why have you come to us, sorceress?" he asked, a new edge of threat in his voice.

"I already told you, _I don't know_. But I know what you're thinking, and I'm not your enemy! I'm not here to destroy your city or kill any of you! _I just want to go home!_"

Her yells echoed throughout the hall. For some inexplicable reason, Amitta found herself in a battle with tears that were building up in her eyes.

"Show me that you are what you claim," said the king, his dark eyes fiery.

"I can't do anything without my wand," Amitta replied pointedly.

The king hesitated, then stood from his throne. He took a few long strides and slowly handed Amitta her wand. Then he took a step back.

Finally, Amitta had her safety and her power back in her hands. She tapped the shackles on her wrists with the tip of her wand and muttered, "Alohomora." They unlocked and fell to the floor with a deadening thud. Then she twirled her wand around herself, cleaning and mending her cloths. Finally, she pointed her wand at one of the many statues and muttered, "Glacius," freezing the statue.

Tension was replaced with varying states of shock. "You have great power," the king said, mostly to himself. He sat back down on his throne, deep in thought. The queen set her hand on his knee.

Finally, the king spoke again. "We need to consider out options. In the meantime, you will remain in Minas Tirith as a prisoner."

Amitta's jaw dropped slightly. "What? I have to go back to that dungeon? Did I not just tell you that I mean you no harm?"

"We could perhaps arrange a safe house for you, under constant supervision," suggested the queen.

"S—sure, I guess," Amitta muttered, a bit angry.

"Hand over your weapon willingly, and we will provide you with supervised hospitality," said the king. The captain was holding out his hand expectantly. Either way, she would somehow lose her wand, and a bed was better than chained to a wall.

"Take care of it," she muttered, handing over her wand reluctantly.

"Take her to the safe house on the eleventh level."

Amitta left the throne hall possibly more miserable than when she had entered it.

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**That was an odd chapter xD**

**Why hello there! I'm back from my NaNo hiatus and my NaNo-crash hiatus. I'm updating regularly now, check my profile for the schedule. **

**Reviews are loved! Thank you everyone who does consitantly, especially you, yellow! 3**

**~Icamane**


	5. Gondor

Amitta counted the days she was in Minas Tirith. In total, she spent two weeks in the city. And with every day that passed, she grew more and more restless.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she had been allowed out of the safe house, but she never was. Food was brought to her, and there was always a guard outside her door. The one perk of the small, three room house was the balcony. It was very height and Amitta would never have dreamed of escaping from it, but it provided an amazing view of the city. She could sit on it and watch the people of the city carry out business for hours.

On one of the days, Amitta requested Captain Thereon. To her surprise, he actually came. "It is very unusual for a prisoner to ask for their captor," he said as he shut the door behind him.

"I have a few questions I'd like answered," Amitta replied, sitting down in a smooth, wooden chair.

"I cannot guarantee you an answer to all of them," the captain answered, following suit.

"Then I'll ask the simple one. When I got here, this city was on fire, and now, it looks fine. How long was I asleep for in the dungeon?"

"Almost a month. We would have assumed you dead if you had not been breathing."

A month. She had been asleep for a month. Amitta felt a trickle of fear. She had no idea how she had been asleep for that long, nor how she was still alive, but she had a feeling it had something to do with the draining sensation she had been feeling every time she tried to use magic. Could it be something to do with where she was? It had to be; she had never felt drained back home.

"Any more questions?"

Amitta realized she had been spacing out. "Yes, can I see a map of er, Middle Earth?"

"I shall bring you one later today." Captain Thereon stood. "But now, I have more business to attend to."

And he left.

Amitta spent the next few days pouring over the map. She traced out her path so far with a quill that a soldier had brought her. It looked like she had started her journey a bit south of a town called Osgiliath. But she didn't see any way she could have gotten to this place, unless…

She checked to make sure the guard wasn't going to burst in on her and picked an empty spot in the room. '_I hope I can do this without a wand,_' she thought, and turned on the spot.

In a familiar sensation of being sucked down a very tight black tube, Amitta Apparated across the room. When she landed, she had made it across the room, but her knees gave out and her vision was hazy. She caught herself and laid down on the stone floor, waiting for her head to stop spinning.

It took her nearly half an hour before she felt recovered enough to pull herself onto the bed. Amitta had_ never_ felt like that after Apparation, not even when she had accidentally splinched herself the first time she had done it. But she fell asleep with a gloomy thought. If she couldn't even Apparate across a room without nearly passing out, then going home by it was completely out of the question.

"The king wishes to inform you of his decision."

It was her thirteenth day in Minas Tirith. Amitta jumped up. "About bloody time," she said as she followed Captain Thereon out of the safe house. They walked quickly through the streets and into the throne room. Only the king was here this time. After Amitta and the captain bowed, they waited for him to speak.

"The queen and I have discussed many times what to do about you," he finally said, looking me in the eyes. "We have summed up that we cannon help you."

Amitta's heart sunk in dread. '_Merlin, they're going to kill me, aren't they?_'

"However, we know someone who may be able to help."

Now her heart seemed to be at a standstill. '_Wait, what?_'

"The queen's father is a very wise and powerful elf lord. He may have some of the answers you are looking for."

Hope seemed to be coming back to Amitta.

"Captain Thereon. You and your men will escort her to Rivendell to speak with your lord."

"Your majesty, I must object."

The king raised his eyebrows. "You do, Captain? Surely you don't think you and your men can't handle one unarmed prisoner?"

"She will be unarmed, then?"

"That will be up to you. You have her weapon, after all."

Amitta could see the captain clench his jaw. She felt a little flame of anger ignite in her chest. Was she really that scary and untrustworthy?

"As you wish, your majesty. We will leave tomorrow morning."

* * *

**Yes, it's short, but it served it's purpose. **

**Reviews are loved.**

**~Icamane**


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